


In your dreams, Potter.

by QueenofThyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:12:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofThyme/pseuds/QueenofThyme
Summary: Harry Potter has a hard time dreaming about Draco Malfoy, night after night. Pun very much intended.





	In your dreams, Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT. You have been warned. <3

It first happens on a perfectly ordinary Tuesday night. Harry is completely unsuspecting and unprepared when he falls asleep. His dreams are usually rather plain bar the occasional war-related nightmare, however he’s been getting less and less of those. The pain and guilt still seem to resurrect themselves during his waking hours though. It’s a little harder to shake those feelings off when you’re walking through the very castle where it happened, where so many people died.

So, you can imagine Harry’s surprise when he has a very graphic – there’s only one way to put it although he tries to resist categorizing it in that way – sex dream. Well not sex, per se, but sexual. And graphic, did he mention graphic? And surprisingly realistic. So much so that during he thought perhaps it might be real, but then, of course, that would be impossible.

But he’s getting ahead of himself. The dream. Yes, the dream. How to describe the dream? At first everything is dark and Harry isn’t paying too much attention, his sleeping mind drifting from one unconscious thought to the next, and then a small light catches Harry’s eye – or his mind’s eye he supposes as this is all happening in his head – so he walks towards it – or mind glides or whatever the equivalent is. Okay, you get it. 

Now, when he gets to the light, things become a little clearer. He’s not just in darkness anymore. He’s in a Hogwarts dorm. A Slytherin dorm he’s willing to bet from the dampness of the room, although that could just be what all dreams are like. He can’t remember any others right now. The beds are all empty in the dorm bar one, which is where the light is coming from – the source is a wand tip on a bedside counter, shining light onto the sleeping occupant of the bed.

Harry walks further towards the light, to the bed. He can’t help it. It is as if he’s being drawn in, beckoned, called to. Who is he to fight such a divine call? But this is where the trouble starts.

You see, the occupant is not sleeping. Not sleeping at all. Unless they have a sleep disorder that causes them to pant in their sleep. Or moan in their sleep. Or…er…make repetitive movements with their hand under their blankets.

And there’s one other thing as well. The occupant is Draco Malfoy. Yeah. Exactly.

Harry is quite glad of the blankets, as it least it means he is only imagining what Draco Malfoy’s dick looks like under the covers and isn’t staring point blank at it. Even if it is a dream. But it doesn’t seem like it. The sounds Malfoy is making are much too loud in Harry’s ears. The vision of the er…disturbance through the blanket seems like it really is right in front of Harry’s eyes, close enough to touch. Not that he wants to. He just means he could if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. Obviously.

Harry forces his eyes away from …that particular area…and refocuses on Malfoy’s face, which is perhaps a bad idea. As Malfoy’s face is even more erotic. Mouth open, panting, head thrown back, neck exposed. Good grief, it’s pornographic. And Harry really doesn’t need to witness this. He should be dreaming of overdue assignments, or even graveyards, not his childhood enemy, all grown up, and wanking so obscenely.

Though Harry supposes it is rude of him to judge. Malfoy is doing it in his own bed. Harry’s the one who shouldn’t be here. Wait. Hold up. He isn’t here. This is a _dream._ It’s so realistic that he has to keep reminding himself. Wake up! Why isn’t he waking up. He needs to get out of here before –

Malfoy’s head raises ever so slightly and he locks eyes with Harry. And Malfoy’s arm keeps moving under the sheets. No. No. This is not right. Harry should drop his gaze, he shouldn’t watch while…but he does. He stares right back at Malfoy, even while Malfoy’s hand moves faster, when the panting gets louder. Right until Malfoy moans out one word before his hand grows still.

And that word is “Potter.” Although when it comes out of Malfoy’s mouth, it seems to have more than just the usual two syllables.

Harry wakes up in a cold sweat, his breathing labored. He takes a quick look around to make sure he hasn’t woken his dormmates, before settling back into bed, stubbornly ignoring his body’s inappropriate reaction to whatever the fuck that just was.

* * *

 

It was a dream. That’s all it was. But Harry’s body doesn’t seem to understand that. Harry’s body seems to think he and Malfoy’s body have some catching up to do. Which is utterly ridiculous.

Look, it’s not as if Malfoy bullies Harry or his friends anymore. Living through a war ages you and puts things like childhood rivalries in a very different light. But they’re not friends either. They’re classmates. Ex-enemies. One time Harry said hi to Malfoy when he ran into him alone by the Great Lake. Before promptly turning back the other way to avoid standing in awkward silence. That’s as far as their “relationship,” for lack of a much better word, goes

So, Harry’s easily impressionable body will just have to cool it the fuck down. I mean, as far as sex dreams go, not that Harry has had any others of course. But say, if he had, he would know that this one barely scratched the surface of possibility. There was no nudity. Harry was not involved. I mean, all he saw was Malfoy’s orgasm face. That’s it. That and Malfoy’s moaning his name. Okay, yes, well that’s a little bit of an assault on the aural sense, fine. But still. It was nothing. And Harry’s body will get over it.

Harry’s body does no such thing.

They have Potions together after lunch. It’s a painful experience for Harry to say the least. He’s now hyper aware of Malfoy’s every move as if he has some pathetic kindergarten crush. Which he doesn’t. Let’s be clear on that. He’s just giving in to some of his body’s less embarrassing demands. Like staring at Malfoy as he walks into the classroom. Following him with his eyes all the way to his desk. Even when Malfoy looks up and catches him, Harry can’t find it in himself to stare away. Merlin, it’s just like the dream. Only this time Malfoy certainly isn’t going to finish in class. Or touch himself at all. Because that would be weird. And inappropriate. And for merlin’s sake, Harry needs to get a grip. _On Malfoy’s dick._ No. He did not just think that. Fucking merlin’s beard.

Of course, it’s Malfoy who drops his gaze first. He obviously has more control than Harry. Who is fucking losing his mind. To his body. To his traitorous horny body. Over one dream. One tiny sex-ish dream. It’s fucking ridiculous.

Harry crosses his legs for the rest of the lesson and tries only to glance at Malfoy every 20 or so seconds. It takes great personal restraint. He’s a little (okay, very, are you happy now?) disappointed that Malfoy doesn’t look his way again. 

* * *

 

Wednesday night is just a surprise as the previous. Harry, honest to Merlin and all that is magical, thought one dream was it. That it was just one strange betrayal of his unconscious mind that would never happen again. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

This time, he knows what’s coming, but he’s still unexplainably drawn to the light. So, he has no choice (okay he could resist if he really wanted to, fine, but it’s not that simple, okay?) but to walk towards it. Sure enough, he finds who other than Draco Malfoy in bed jacking himself the fuck off under the covers.

It’s much the same as the previous night except without the eye contact. Despite this dream Malfoy not acknowledging Harry at all, he still ends on that same stretched out and completely destroyed word: “Potter.”

 And Harry wakes up with another erection he has to ignore. 

* * *

 

After that Harry isn’t surprised anymore when night after night he dreams of Malfoy. It’s always the same as the second night. Malfoy never makes eye contact, but he always says Harry’s last name. It’s getter harder and harder (pun very much intended) to ignore the erections he is consistently waking with.

And seeing Malfoy during the day is another challenge. He ignores Harry, which isn’t anything new really. But Harry can’t exactly ignore him. He must look like a fucking stalker, the way his eyes follow every move of Malfoy’s. He tells himself each day that he’ll stop. That it has passed. That he’s over it. And then Malfoy will walk into the room and Harry’s head will turn so fast it gives him whiplash. He wonders if Malfoy notices. Surely, he must.

* * *

 

One night the dream changes. Only slightly. But it makes all the difference.

This time when Harry approaches the light, Malfoy’s blanket is lying a little lower, just above his hip bones. And Malfoy is shirtless. Good fucking grief, of course he is. Harry’s eyes trail over Malfoy’s pale skin, taking in every line, ever shade, every scar. Because there are several scars crisscrossing over Malfoy’s chest and Harry knows exactly what they are.

He walks a little closer than he usually does. Instead of standing at the foot of the bed he comes up to the side to study the scars. They’ve obviously faded with time as there is no harshness to them, but they’re still there. Harry supposes they’ll never disappear. Not when they were caused by dark magic. Harry’s dark magic.

He doesn’t even realise he’s reaching out to touch them when Malfoy’s voice freezes him in his tracks.

“Watch me.”

Harry’s eyes flicker up to Malfoy’s face, expecting eye contact again, but Malfoy’s looking down at himself where his hand disappears under the covers. Harry lets his eyes follow Malfoy’s gaze.

Although he still can’t see Malfoy’s hand and more importantly the dick within its grasp, seeing his exposed arm moving up and down is all kinds of indecent on its own. And watching that point where his wrist meets the blankets is particularly mesmerizing. Malfoy’s so close to exposing himself. If the blanket were to slip just a fraction lower, or if he were to rut his hip ups just a little. Merlin, Harry finds himself waiting for that moment as he stares.

It never comes. But Malfoy does. Especially loud tonight. And Harry suspects Malfoy may have surpassed his personal best on the number of syllables he puts into “Potter.”

And this time when Harry wakes up, he doesn’t hesitate to mimic Malfoy’s actions, taking his own dick in his hand, and he’s ashamed to admit it but he thinks of Malfoy as he does. Malfoy touching himself, Malfoy asking him to watch, Malfoy moaning his name.

And he doesn’t plan it, he really doesn’t, but when he finishes in his hand, he calls out Malfoy’s last name in a whisper so quiet it’s almost like he doesn’t say it at all. But he does. And there’s really no escaping that fact.

* * *

 

The next day when Malfoy walks into their morning DADA class, Harry’s eyes hone in on him as usual. Only this time he’s also thinking about Malfoy shirtless, instead of just mid-orgasm. It’s a little disconcerting. But I’m sure you’ll agree that what’s even more disconcerting is what happens next.

When Malfoy, instead of moving to his standard third from the front, far left desk, takes up residence in the seat beside Harry which he has no place being in because it is in the back row, far right. And next to Harry!

Harry doesn’t know to react so he freezes. He just freezes. For the first time, he doesn’t have his eyes on Malfoy, but only because he’s sitting right fucking next to him and to stare at him from that complete lack of reasonable distance would be so terribly obvious.  

Now what is about to happen next is so fucking embarrassing, that you need to be prepared for the secondhand embarrassment of it all. You need to find something to bite down on because this so incredibly embarrassing that Harry wishes he had something to bite down on, and he also wishes he wasn’t thinking about Malfoy’s cock of all things while he thought that just now. Not that he wants to bite it. But he wouldn’t be opposed to having it in his – 

Anyway. Malfoy leans over, right up to Harry’s ear, like something out of a porno and I kid you the fuck not, says “Late night?”

Of course, this is when Harry loses his shit because Malfoy knows. Of course, he knows. Why the fuck would anyone come up to someone THEY NEVER SPEAK TO and ask, “Late Night?” unless they know that person is dreaming of them in a sexual manner every night and in just the most recent night jerked off to a memory of it and even moaned their name? No one. Ever. There is no other reason to say such a thing.

But Harry can’t give the game away that easily. He has to at least TRY and fight for his dignity, even though it has been dragged straight through the mud and then run over by a Thestral. He takes a breath and says in a pitch higher than he’s ever fucking reached before (because of course it would be now that his superior vocal range would be revealed): “What?”

Yeah. That’s how he tries to reclaim his dignity. With a _what?_ A fucking what. It’s pathetic. So pathetic. And bad. And Draco knows. He fucking knows.

But Draco must not want to give his game away either because he comes back with: “You look tired. There are bags under your eyes,” in the most casual _I don’t necessarily know you’ve been dreaming about me in a sex-ish fashion but you never know, perhaps I have_ tone

“Right. Um. I had – well – I slept – I just – you know. Not that you know. Why would you know? I mean, yeah, late night,” is the incredibly witty and brilliant response Harry returns with. And he couples it with a big ol’ red face in case it wasn’t completely obvious that he GOT OFF TO MALFOY LAST NIGHT. Fucking Merlin, maybe he would feel better if he just yelled it out.

Just as he’s about to do that and forever ruin any social standing he has at Hogwarts – although let’s face it, as the boy savior, he can do no wrong – Malfoy says and I fucking quote “Sweet dreams, Potter,” before jumping up and relocating to his usual desk third from the front, far left desk.

Thank all of Merlin’s magic that he moves away because Harry does not know how to deal with such a provocative phrase. Okay it’s not that provocative but in CONTEXT. It’s proof Malfoy knows. And sort of encouraging. And well, terribly intimidating as well. Because that means…well, Harry doesn’t want to think about the exact implications of all that. But suffice to say now he gets to enjoy the rest of DADA with a fucking intolerable boner. Perfect. Fucking perfect. 

* * *

 

Now we get to the good bit. Or the bad bit. Or the part were Harry realises he is well and truly fucked. Or that he’d liked to be well and truly fucked by a particular unnamed person. Well, we all know who it is, so he can drop the pretense. Draco Fucking Malfoy. Or Fucking Draco Malfoy. Or Draco Malfoy, fuck. Any way that combines fucking with Draco Malfoy will do for Harry. Yes, fucked is the right word for it.

But you haven’t heard yet. Hold up. So, Harry brushes his teeth and puts on his pajamas…and okay, boring, boring. You don’t want to hear about that. You want to hear about when Harry walks towards that light. As in the light from Malfoy’s wand in his dream. Not like walking into the light after death. That’s a completely different story.

Anyway, yes, Harry finds himself in front of Malfoy’s bed once more and he’s (VERY VERY VERY- okay we get it, Harry) disappointed to find that his chest is no longer exposed. He’s certainly touching himself as per the usual standard but he’s back to being covered all the way to his neck. I mean, Harry will take what he gets. But if this is his dream, surely, he could will it to change with just a thought. So, he thinks hard (pun still intended) about getting Malfoy well and truly naked. He’s had this dream for dozens of nights now and he’s never even seen Malfoy’s dick. What kind of fucking bullshit sex-ish fantasy is that?

Well, someone in dreamland is listening to Harry’s thoughts (perhaps his own subconscious which is controlling this whole charade) because the very next thing that happens is Malfoy kicking the blanket off his body completely and okay, he’s wearing underpants, but it’s the most Harry’s seen so far and he’s not ashamed that it makes him lose his breathe a little. He’s not the MOST experienced person. And he’s never had dreams as vivid as this before.

The next disappointment (following the reveal that Malfoy wears underpants to bed instead of going commando as Harry had always ~~hoped~~ expected) is that Malfoy withdraws his hand from his underwear. Although, it turns out it’s not too much of a disappointment at all as it allows Harry to see the outline of Malfoy’s dick unobstructed and quite clearly through the outline of his pants. Harry’s not religious but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. Enough said. That’s really the only coherent thoughts Harry has regarding Malfoy’s dick.

And then, if you would believe it, which you must because it’s happening, Malfoy brings his hand back and (gently?) strokes his dick from the outside of his underpants. Which is so ridiculous and teasing that the only explanation is that he’s putting on a show especially for Harry. But, wait, of course he would be doing that. This is Harry’s fucking dream. Well not his _fucking_ (verb) dream. Not yet. Although it could be. But well, you get it.

The basic idea here is that Harry is losing his shit over some PG-13+ through the underwear stroking, okay fine M rated if you want to be picky about it and spoil the drama. And then – Harry nearly faints at this – Malfoy says and I swear I’m not lying, “Like what you see, Potter?”

Harry has never spoken in the dreams before but a question like that with Malfoy doing such teasing things with his hand, makes Harry eager to answer, in case it results in further…er…teasing. So, he shouts out “YES!” way way waaayyyyy too eagerly. If this were really happening, Harry wouldn’t be able to look Malfoy in the face ever again, but it’s a dream and this is his fantasy Malfoy so he only gives it one fraction of the necessary embarrassment and shame such an action deserves.

And he’s all too happy to move on when Malfoy moves his hand up a little to fiddle with his waistband. Yeah, Harry is most certainly on board for that. Malfoy snaps it back a couple of times, teasing. Really teasing. And Harry’s tempted to reach out and pull them down himself. But he’s not sure if he can. He’s never touched Malfoy in the dreams before. He supposes he’s never spoken before until this time either.

He reaches out a hand to hover over Malfoy’s waistband and looks up to his face for permission. Perhaps this is a little over the top to do in his dream. Because he’s controlling dream Malfoy’s actions anyway, but it seems appropriate. And it makes everything a little more exciting when Malfoy nods while biting his lip. Because consent is fucking sexy (and MANDATORY, take note people).

Now, Harry wastes no time in yanking those underwear down so he can finally, FINALLY see – oh. Harry thought he was ready for this, he has imagined it so many times, but nothing compares to actually seeing Draco’s Malfoy cock in the flesh…at least in vivid dream flesh. Harry just…he wants to touch it, he wants to fucking taste it. But he’s frozen. Frozen just staring at Malfoy’s dick. Can you imagine if this was happening in real life and not a dream? It would be humiliating.

Especially when Malfoy brings his own hand back down and starts wanking himself off again, seeing as Harry is incapable of doing so. Which is not so bad in the dream, because at least Harry gets to watch Malfoy touch himself with no blanket or underpants to hide the view now. And it’s fucking glorious. Malfoy is fucking glorious. Malfoy is, fuck. Just fuck. Harry is losing his words again.

And Malfoy’s breathing is getting heavier and his hand is moving faster and good grief he must be close. One part of Harry is a little sad he missed out on the chance to touch Malfoy as he thinks it might seem a little silly to get involved now so late in the game (although why he cares what a dream Malfoy thinks of him, he has no idea) and another part is fucking randy and excited. Because he’s actually going to get to see Malfoy come now. And that is entirely unexplainably exciting.

And sure enough watching Malfoy come is just, how does Harry describe this? He’s not exactly an erotic writer, so when he sees it (by it, let me explain on behalf of Harry, he means Malfoy finishing all over his own hand with another moan of “Potter”), all he can think is that it’s beautiful. No really, he’s that much of a fucking sap, he just thinks it’s beautiful. Like what people call bloody sunsets. I mean, sure Harry, sure.

And then he wakes up.  And it’s fucking masturbation time. Because what kind of person isn’t turned on by their own sex fantasy? Harry is sort of starting to realise now that he’s obviously attracted to Malfoy, and maybe has been for longer than he can properly remember, at least if his dreams are anything to go by.

So, whatever, Harry lets himself go. He’s attracted to Draco Malfoy. So what? He’s not on Voldemort’s side anymore, and when he was he never really had a choice. They’re not enemies. So, there’s nothing wrong in him touching himself to the thought of Draco Malfoy’s dick. And certainly nothing wrong with his sleepy horny self seeing a vision of Malfoy watching him at the foot of his bed, and coming with that one name on his lips.

* * *

 

Now, Harry isn’t sure how he’s going to face Malfoy when they see each other in class. He’s become more and more obsessed with him and now that he’s seen his dick…Good lord. He’s in trouble. But unexpectedly it’s breakfast he needs to worry about.

Because Malfoy passes by him when Harry enters the Great Hall and whispers “Potter,” in his ear although he doesn’t say it exactly like that, he says it with several more syllables than strictly necessary. Which obviously raises alarm bells alongside Harry’s dick.

So, Harry has no choice but to follow Malfoy out into the Entrance Hall and confront him. “How do you know?”

“Know what, Potter?” Malfoy asks with an infuriatingly not so innocent smile.

“You _know_. The _stuff_.” Harry hedges. He knows Malfoy fucking knows. He doesn’t know how. But he knows he knows. “In my dreams.”

“In your dreams?” Malfoy repeats, keeping up his innocent façade. “What is it you dream about, Potter?”

“You _know_.” Harry says through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid I don’t. Perhaps you’ll need to spell it out.”

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Harry warns. He’s about to lose it if Malfoy keeps up this pretense for much longer.

“Wait, are you saying…” Malfoy slaps a hand to his head as if he’s just thought of something, but exaggerated to a ridiculous degree. “Gosh, Potter, surely you can’t mean you’ve been dreaming about me…in compromising positions?”

“So, you _do_ know.”

“How very scandalous of you, Potter. Perhaps you’ll see me again tonight, then.” And with that he fucking walks away. Just walks away like it’s nothing. But then, and this part will stay with Harry forever. He turns his head back, stares right in Harry’s eyes (reminiscent of the first time Harry watched Malfoy get off, jesus fuck) and says: “Although, did you ever wonder if they’re really dreams at all?”

And that’s it. He turns back and he’s gone. With a line like that. And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Surely, he can’t mean...Because if they haven’t been dreams that means he really…but he always wakes up in his own bed so there’s no way…right. He needs to do a Hermione. He needs to head to the library. 

* * *

 

Harry is nervous. More nervous than he’s ever been going into a dream with Malfoy. Because now he’s quite certain that they’re not dreams at all. After a full day of skipping classes and researching in the library, Harry concludes that he’s sharing a connection with Malfoy, facilitated by Malfoy’s 10-inch wand (no not his dick, his real wand, get your head out the gutter). A wand that seems to hold allegiance to both of them.

Now in all his readings he couldn’t find an instance of wizards or witches who shared wands having a connection where they watched each other masturbate – those texts might be in the restricted section. But he did find many instances of a wand that remained in allegiance to two people, allowing those people to connect almost spiritually so that they could remain in contact even when apart. And the way it was described, inhabiting a physical body but usually accessed via dreaming, seeming a lot like the way he’s been seeing Malfoy.

But it means that Malfoy has really been coming with Harry’s name (well, at least his last name) on his lips. Which is, yes, quite exciting, considering Harry’s development in that area as well. But now tonight is so different to every other night. Because Harry knows now. He knows. And Malfoy seems to have known this whole time. The bastard. The absolute fucking bastard.

And of course, despite his nerves, Harry is very eager to step into the light again. But what he finds this time is unlike anything Harry has witnessed before, even in his dreams. He has to grab onto one of the bed posts to keep himself on his feet. Because Draco Malfoy is already completely naked, no blankets, no underpants and…er…there’s more. And this part is where Harry’s having a hard time (pun still very much intended) standing up. Draco Malfoy is on all fours on his bed, his arse high up pointing straight at Harry, one hand already stroking his dick.

And this isn’t Harry’s fantasy dream. Merlin, it never was. This is the real Malfoy. Waiting for Harry. On all fucking fours. Like, what even is this? And he turns his head to look Harry with a smirk, a fucking smirk, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to Harry. He always has.

And Harry wonders what’s he supposed to make of this. Is he supposed to…er…how to put this…take this as an invitation to fuck Malfoy? Because he’s not so sure that he’s ready for that. And he isn’t too sure on Malfoy’s intentions either. Fuck, this was so much easier when it was a dream, or at least when Harry thought it was a dream. Now, every embarrassing thing he does or says or doesn’t do or doesn’t say is as embarrassing if it happened in broad daylight. Because this is real. He’s with Malfoy for fucking real. And it’s terrifying.

Malfoy’s still waiting for Harry, and Harry has to do something. So, he does something incredibly embarrassing very quickly before he has a chance to doubt himself. He slides himself onto the bed underneath Malfoy. And let me tell you, Harry doesn’t think it was too silly of an idea at all when he looks up to Malfoy staring down at him, stroking his dick above Harry.

Not silly at all. In fact, it might be the best idea Harry Potter has ever had. And Malfoy doesn’t seem to have any qualms about it. Though he does have a suggestion to which Harry is more than happy to oblige: “Touch yourself.”

Harry’s not about to refuse that. He’s always waited until after what he thought were dreams to get himself off, but here with Malfoy sounds like a much better option. He slides down his pajama pants and underwear under Malfoy’s gaze. And yeah, he’s already super fucking hard. I mean, it’s only natural in the circumstances. And it’s only naturally that he has to mentally calm himself the fuck down, lest he blow his load way too early and force severe humiliation upon himself.

So, this is how Harry finds himself. Jerking himself off, underneath Draco Malfoy…who is also jerking himself off. It’s strange. Harry feels like maybe he should perhaps reach a hand up and swap hands with Malfoy, but then there’s also something hot about just getting off in front of each other as well. Also, Harry’s too nervous to make any more moves, so there’s that too. But while he’s thinking about this, he’s losing the opportunity to just enjoy the moment. And fucking praise Merlin, Harry is very much enjoying being underneath Malfoy. It is just great. Well that sounds sarcastic, but it’s truly not. Being underneath Malfoy is great. The greatest even. And yeah, Harry is appreciating it all right now.

And when it comes (yes pun, motherfucking pun here) to the end, and Malfoy leans down and presses his lips hungrily over Harry’s for the first time while they both finish into their hands and over each other, Harry could just fucking melt. In fact, maybe he does. Because the next thing he knows he’s waking up in his own bed. And it’s really not the bed he wants to be in right now.

* * *

 Harry is actually rather exhilarated to see Malfoy the next day. Yes, okay, you got him, he’s still nervous, but much more excited. Now that he knows it’s real. And he knows Malfoy’s into it too. It’s far less embarrassing (although still a little embarrassing let’s be honest).

When he enters the Great Hall, Malfoy comes (no, no pun intended here unless you want) out of nowhere and brushes past him, and with a very clear sense of déjà vu, Harry follows him out into the Entrance Hall, where Malfoy is waiting. Obviously keen to speak to Harry as well. Although he doesn’t say anything, just stands there smirking, the insufferable bastard.

So that leaves Harry to start. “I want to talk about… _you know_.” He says ever so eloquently (that’s sarcasm, folks).

“Really, Potter,” Malfoy says, the stupid smirk never dropping, “You need to be more direct about what you mean.”

“You were there last night. It was real. I know it was,” Harry pushes. There’s no need for Malfoy to keep up this cool act. They know. They both fucking know.

But Malfoy’s still playing it seems because he smiles wickedly at Harry and says, “In your dreams Potter,” before turning on his heel with nothing more than a wink at Harry.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fucking fuck fuck. Well, he won’t be so cocky tonight. Or perhaps he will be cocky, very cocky, but in a completely different way. And Harry’s alright with that. Because he’s pretty sure that while he’s getting off with Draco Malfoy every night, he can win over Draco Malfoy in the morning, day by day.  It’s a challenge. And Merlin knows, Harry Potter’s more than a match for Draco Malfoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://queenofthyme.tumblr.com/) for more drabbles and things or check out my other works on ao3 <3  
>   
> More like this:  
> [Dangerously Boiling Explicit Hot Tea (5k)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293503)  
> [#3#word#prompts (1-5k each)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116073)


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